


Noboddy's Home

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Bleach, Durarara!!, Naruto
Genre: Anger Management, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Criminal Law, Detective Uchiha Sasuke, Doctor Haruno Sakura, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heartbreak, M/M, Martial Arts, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mental Instability, Past Suicide Attempt, Politician Uzumaki Naruto, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Uchiha Sasuke Has PTSD, Vulnerable Izaya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: Orihara Izaya is said to be evil with a god complex. He is said to have no human emotions and is an egotisitical bastard that everyone hates. Especially Heiwajima Shizuo.However, Uchiha Sasuke of Shinjuku does not know any of this information. When he starts to investigate the assault and almost death of his wife's patient, the cracks and wounds of Orihara Izaya's past start bleeding out.Including his darkest secret.Who exactly is Orihara Izaya, and what connection does he have with the underworld of illegality in Ikebukuro? Who is Heiwajima Shizuo, a man who says he hates violence but is the personification of violnce? The irrational hatred turns into a twisted love story after secrets are revealed, and a punishment is mandated by the Ikebukuro Court.For his punishment for multiple assualt charges, damage to the wards in Tokyo, and the most recent assualt that left Orihara Izaya in a coma, Shizuo will have to be his main caretaker in his extensive rehabilitationn.But most of all, the supernatural elements beyond Ikebukuro have come to play.





	1. NOBODY'S HOME

**Author's Note:**

> I know this story is vastly different from the challenge I wrote about two months ago. I was inspired by a beautiful and heartbreaking Shinra/Izaya doujinshi, which is what the prologue is heavily based upon. 
> 
> I was really excited when I heard Narita-sensei wrote several "Bleach" novels, and thus parts of the story were created. 
> 
>  
> 
> I love all of the fandoms listed, so I thought why not create a story with them all? I know it is vastly different from the story I originally put the challenge before, but I hope you enjoy it nonethless!

                                                                          NOBODY'S HOME

 

“Aahh… _ahh_ …ngh…”

Shinra stopped his ministrations with a wet “pop.” The teenager was uncharacteristically calm with an almost unsettling smile on his face as his friend panted and looked up at the hazy red eyes in mild disappointment.

“What did I tell you, Orihara-kun?” Izaya almost writhed, the pleasure curling in his spine and blossoming in his chest, wanting to catch Shinra’s mouth in a kiss.

But he knew, despite the hormones raging through his weak body, that the rules were absolute.

“Don’t make any noise. Otherwise, I won’t continue.”

It had started a couple of weeks ago. Izaya had always prided himself about observing humans, learning about their interpersonal relationships and what made them tick.

Izaya had no intention of forming any connection with the weird boy that didn’t know his name. But then Shinra had been stabbed. Yes, Izaya knew that Shinra had only jumped in front of the knife from Nakura to impress his imaginary girlfriend Celty.

It had crossed his mind that Shinra didn’t really care. That what they had was only about impressing a girl that didn’t know he existed.

But as the days of his suspension lengthened, as and vengeance grew in his soul, Kishitani Shinra became the foremost individual in Izaya’s mind.

It wasn’t an obsession. Obsessions didn’t burn. They didn’t cling to the very essence of their soul. They only instilled an emotion Izaya hadn’t known he had.

No, that was not quite true. Izaya had simply not allowed himself to feel an emotion known as love.

Therefore, when Shinra had suggested that they execute an experiment to practice making love to Celty, Izaya had pathetically, too quickly, agreed.

There was only one rule though.

Izaya had to pretend that he was Celty, and that meant no sounds would come from him.

He hadn’t known how hard not making sound was as another person’s fingers played with his body. Never before had his flesh ever reacted in the form of flesh on flesh. His body heated, writhed, wanted.

Kissing.

Fondling.

Gasping inside himself so Shinra couldn’t hear how the pleasure of his fingers were destroying Izaya from the inside out.

Biting back tears and crying from the pleasure he knew that Shinra didn’t know he was bringing him.

And the want…the want to touch, to hold, and to consume….

“Ahh…angh...Shin….”

“Izaya-kun."

The eyes that had been calm the entire time as the boy was inside him, stilled and the glasses-wearing boy smiled.

Shinra only kissed him to keep the younger boy quiet, he knew. But he stilled kissed him back with fervor, as if this moment was ephemeral and he wouldn’t find anything close to the feeling again.

“Orihara-kun.” Shinra was turned away from him, pulling his pants and not looking at the dark-haired teen who was still somewhat sore and dazed from the moments they had shared on the empty classroom floor.

“I don’t think we need to continue this anymore.”

Izaya wouldn’t allow himself the indignity of gaping at Shinra’s words. His eyes wouldn’t widen, and his heart…would remain.

“Come to think of it, Celty doesn’t have a mouth, doesn’t she? If so, then I don’t have to kiss you!”

Breaking…breaking…

“And I don’t have to, well, fuck you anymore because you are two different people! So…”

“Sorry, Orihara-kun.”

Shinra smiled as he always did, but Izaya knew that his smile was crueler than usual.

Shinra had always been good at distancing himself from his emotions and attachments from people. It was one of the many things Izaya was jealous of the other fifteen-year-old.

He didn’t want for anything.

Izaya had thought he hadn’t had a heart to begin with.

But there was nothing there expect the beating of his dead heart as the organ shattered, splintered, and engorged into millions of pieces.

He felt it every day until the want…the love eventually turned into something else.

Something he loved and hated at the same time.

But there was no where he could possibly go.

The want…desire, for love, for affection…as tears crawled from his eyes and as screams became his haunting lullaby, Orihara Izaya decided to love humanity.

He would love all humans. He didn’t consider himself human, so what did his emotions matter?

Isolation…from all the forms of the love the stupid petty little human darlings loved and believed in.

It wasn’t as if he belonged anywhere.

After all, nobody was home.

No one ever was.

 

_“I couldn’t tell you,”_

he softly sang

_“Why she felt that way_

_She felt it every day_

_And I couldn’t help her_

_I just watched her make_

_The same mistakes again_

_What’s wrong, what’s wrong now?_

_Too many, too many problems_

_Don’t know where she belongs_

_Where she belongs_

_She wants to go home_

_But nobody’s home_

_It’s where she lies_

_Broken inside.”_


	2. 苦痛

 

                                                                            苦痛/kutsuu

* * *

 

Izaya knew, quite not elegantly, that he was fucked when Shizu-chan came strolling around the corner. Perhaps the word strolling was a bit ambitious. Shizu-chan was growling to himself and his face was aimed towards the ground as Sonohara Anri gasped and almost jumped back in shock.

Izaya could clearly see Saika’s control over the teenage girl. If not for Saika, then Sonohara-san would have run towards Shizu-chan, for her trust in him was explicitly clear as her nerves were starting to come out and play. The gaze of disgust and brief hatred that Izaya had seen many times aimed towards him during his years working as an informant clouded over with uncertainty. A brief stab of irritation lined his stomach. _Ah, Shizu-chan, you have no idea how much these humans love you._ A bubble of laughter trembled against his throat, but Izaya refused to let his vulnerability show.

 _For such a beast,_ Izaya wondered as his heart raced with glee as Shizu-chan finally grasped that there were people watching him and turned towards them. His heart seemed to increase ever faster as Shizu-chan’s expression of irritation immediately became clouded with rage. A small smile, of the indecipherable emotion he had was growing at the surface.

 _Again, Shizu-chan._ The bitterness inside of him turned to a tepid warmth that almost stole his breath. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the beast stepped closer toward him.

“IZAAAYAA!” Shizu-chan noticed Sonohara-san standing beside him, and the blond’s expression grew even more grave. “Oi, what are doing with her?” Despite himself, Izaya felt a shudder tear along his spine at the sound of Shizu-chan’s gravely baritone. For so long he had enjoyed hearing that voice directed at him, that rage and violence that defined Shizu-chan as the strongest man in Ikebukuro directed at _him_.

At him, when most people didn’t acknowledge he existed. Or, perhaps more specifically, actually saw Izaya as he was.

Like Shinra.

The thought of his old friend didn’t cause him pain. For the pain to be registered, there must be wounds. But there were no wounds as Izaya saw those beautiful eyes aimed in his direction. Those hazel eyes never seemed to leave his own red as the taller blond continued to yell.

“What the fuck are you doing, Izaayaa…dragging her into your twisted, evil schemes?” Shizu-chan spat on the ground, as if the saliva signifying what he thought of where the dirty informant should belong. Izaya smiled, the muscles twitching and in pain at the effort to maintain the shape of his mouth.

“Shizu-chan, you should know I have _no interest_ in Anri-chan,” Izaya said in a light tone, delighted with the fact that the teenage girl gripped her sword tightly in her hands at the sound of that nickname. Amusingly enough, Shizu-chan had the same reaction, his pupils dilating and his nostrils flaring in rage.

“My name is SHIZUO, you damn flea! How many times do I have to tell you?!!”

“HAAHH, you stupid FLEA!!”

 _It is so amusing…watching him react,_ Izaya thought with a vague emotion turning inside his heart. He didn’t know why he was addicted, _obsessed_ with drawing Heiwajima Shizuo out and playing with him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that one wrong move from him would cause death. It was almost a pull, a horrific and yet thrilling pull that made Izaya drawn towards Shizu-chan. He pretended to hate Shizu-chan, hate him for being a monster, when in fact, Izaya…was jealous of him.

Surrounded by people who cared about him without even knowing and taking it for granted. How many times had he been warned by Celty to stay away from Shizuo or she would kill him?

Why did they care about _him_ so much? This violent, achingly lonely handsome beast of a man who didn’t even know what he had? The fake blond didn’t even know how handsome and gifted he was with his hands, either. It made Izaya want to vomit. But still…Izaya had to admit defeat as Shizu-chan lifted a lamp post belonging to one of the parks above his head. Trying to kill Shizuo to prove that he, Orihara Izaya was human, was futile. Because as ironic as it is…

Izaya loved Heiwajima Shizuo.

Almost instantly, his mind rushed to an image of a small child, sleeping in her bedroom. Dark hair curled around her face, and her small hands clutched the small stuffed lamb as she slept.

Izaya had no time to react as the lamp post was aiming towards him. Shizu-chan was using it like a baseball bat, the mongrel. He had no chance to dodge. But still, at the last second, Izaya shielded his body with his two arms.

Agony tore through his limbs at the contact of the lamp posts, the structure shockingly similar to a steel beam. There were two audible sickening cracks as white-hot pain tore through his arms, and judging from the stunned look on Shizuo’s face, he hadn’t expected to hear such a sound. It was as if Izaya could feel every bone in his arms breaking. The waves of agony continued to increase, almost overwhelming as Izaya felt his body fly through the air for a second.

His last image was of Shizuo running toward him, rage still evident on his face as Izaya continued to fly through the air.

He heard the crack of the concrete rather than felt it. The burning and ravaging pain as his human, sickened with its fragility as his back collided with the concrete, was enough for him to almost pass out. Izaya’s body continued to fall as he heard faint screams against his eardrums. A white-hot agony tore through his spine and back as he collided against the back wall, blood tearing through his throat. The screams continued as Izaya heard Shizu-chan running forward, the sound almost deafening and painful to his ears as the patrons ran away.

He felt and didn’t see Shizu-chan’s breath on his face.

“Oi, flea…are you dead?”

The rasping gasp was his answer, as was the trickle of blood on Izaya’s mouth.

“You really are a cockroach, aren’t you?”

Izaya weakly struggled as Shizu-chan was suddenly leaning over him, his breath echoing in his ear. Horror stilled in his lungs as he felt his switch blade being ripped from his hand and without a pause, Shizu-chan stabbed him in the abdomen.

A scream tore from Izaya’s throat before he could stop it. It would have embarrassed him greatly if pain hadn’t been his only reality, as it was a scream filled with agony and shock.

“SHUT UP!” Shizuo roared, his hand coming to grip Izaya’s throat. “I hate your voice, Izaya,” rage seeping into his whisper as the residents continued to simper. “It’s one of the things I hate _so_ much about you!! Everything you do is shit! God, the world would be better off without you, you shitty fucking _flea!_ ”

“Shi..zu…chan…” Izaya gurgled, blood dripping down his throat as he coughed, his hands shakily wrapping around the taller man’s own. The nickname seemed to infuriate the man even more, slamming Izaya’s head against the broken concrete.

Izaya cried out in half agony and delirium as his blood continued to rain onto the floor. His head hurt.

He coughed, choking on the blood forming in his mouth.

“Chou…ki….”

A half-gasp of agony tore through his lungs and out his barely-open mouth.

“HAAH?!” Shizuo yelled, his grip tightening on Izaya’s throat as Izaya was fighting unconsciousness. “Who is this Chouki? Another one of your girls that you attached yourself you, you fucking parasite?! Another girl you convinced to fuck and then kill themselves?!”

Suddenly, Izaya felt Shizuo’s grip begin to falter. The grip, and touch of Shizu-chan was gone. Izaya could feel his body falling. As yells and screams continued to dilute his vision, Izaya thought of once more of those arms that once held him. It was so long ago…and despite the scars that continued to bleed, it remained Izaya’s favorite memory.

_“Orihara-kun.”_

The tear felt warm against the blood coating his mouth.

Izaya slumped to the floor as Shizuo’s grip was forcefully pulled away, his thoughts quickly becoming nothing as his body fell into unconsciousness.


	3. 怯えの傷跡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. So...I seriously wanted to update the story four months ago, but then I had a case of terrible depression that almost required measures beyond medication. January and even my birthday were horrific. Then in mid-February I lost my Office 365 subscription. I just recently got the subscription back, so now I'm able to update again! My mental health is good, and in about a month I start grad school again! 
> 
> I will try to update as much as I can in the coming months. Thank you to all that have waited patiently for the next chapter. You have my sincere gratitude.

怯えの傷跡/ _obie no kizuato_

 

Haruno Sakura considered herself a competent doctor. With her light pink hair the color of her namesake, and her gentle hands no stranger to blood, torment, illness, sepsis, and death, Sakura was often considered the goddess for her patients. Many of them woke from comas, medically induced or from trauma, or were horrifically injured. They often recalled her pink hair with a fondness, thinking of her as spring itself even when she had to tell them that it was December.

Now as she looked at her patient lying on his left side to not irritate his wound, she wondered if he would ever open his eyes again. When she had first gotten the chart belonging to Orihara Izaya, the first injury she had noticed was his arms. _A_ human _did this?_ the thirty-two-year-old woman thought in horror. There were multiple compound fractures in both arms, and bits of bones were embedded against his veins. Rod and screws were structurally embedded in his arms to try to heal the bones in the correct manner. His face was bloodless, from the almost obscene amount of blood he lost from severe internal bleeding that the surgeon had barely able to stop. His handsome face, with dark black hair and thin almost feminine features were pale. He was, at such a young age, fighting for his life, reminded her of another man so long ago. Sakura’s lips thinned as she continued to scan this young patient’s chart. According to Sayuri, the head nurse of the young man, Orihara-kun had no relatives to contact as his younger sisters were minors. The only contact he had was a name of Ishida Uryuu, who lived in the Minato ward of Tokyo. She was currently contacting him now.

She had no idea why Orihara-kun had entered the fight. It wasn’t her job for the matter. Her role in all of this depravity was stopping death from embracing him. But the odds were low.

Once the surgeon, a gentle soul and friend from med school days, Arata had removed the piece of – terrible weapon deep in the young man’s flesh, his odds at surviving were 10% at best.

Sakura was often told by her husband that she was a strong woman. But looking at the ventilator for a patient who could no longer breathe on his own and massive amounts of gauze around his abdominal area, where painstakingly, her friend and assistant to the surgeon, Karin, had removed the _weapon_ , which was a long part of a street lamp. It had been lodged in Orihara-kun’s abdomen, and Sakura winced at the amount of complications rising from such an injury. Infection would, not if, spread, and now there were three doctors including herself and a multitude of nurses checking his vitals every hour. Sakura sighed at the last and most troubling injury. There was a compound fracture on the T12 vertebra. It was not certain yet if it was an incomplete or complete injury, but his young man who was fighting for his life would find it very hard to walk if he managed to live through the night.

Sakura set down her patients’ chart then and moved her hand across his. It was slightly larger than hers, but Sakura remained focused on Orihara-kun’s face. Dark hair framed his forehead in a manner similar to her husband’s, and his pale skin, now paler from the result of his injuries, was as transparent as the white sheets of his hospital bed. The artificial breathing from the ventilator was the only sound Sakura could hear as she stared at a face that reminded her of such a tragic and horrific memory. _How can humans survive?_ Sakura thought as the sounds of Ikebukuro continued to haunt her waking moments, tearing apart the constructed doctor that she was, and in her place, a young weeping girl desperately holding onto a teen who had lost far too much blood and had no chance at living.

They were both handsome young men, with high cheekbones and a face that seemed too young for any sort of conflict.

A flash of shaking and sobbing tore through her fragile mind, and Sakura simply and silently held this young man’s hand.

He was only twenty-three years old.

Sakura softly stroked her patient’s hand, speaking to him as much as herself.

“Whoever it is that did this to you…” Her green eyes, the color of rice fields in the spring, narrowed. “They will _pay.”_

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke was used to stares. It wasn’t often that the populace of Tokyo saw a police officer at a crime scene with only one arm. The stares continued, almost as if he was an unnamed creature or a monster. Like he had been. His thoughts swirled as screams burned through his eardrums, a girl with emerald eyes screaming his name, flashes of faces too quick to recognize, and of his older brother’s cool but loving voice.

_“Foolish little brother.”_

Sasuke’s hand clenched, too deep in his memories and regrets to recognize that his teammates were looking at him oddly.

 _Breathe,_ the thirty-two year old dark-haired man thought to himself. _Breathe. Where are you now?_

 _In Ikebukuro,_ his unhelpful consciousness stated as his thoughts remembered the last six months of his memory. The call that had come, a young woman begging for help. _A crime –_

“Oi, Sasuke,” his obnoxious and brash teammate Inuzuka Kiba drawled as they walked along the broken café. Glass was littered everywhere, and they had to watch their step very carefully. “We’re at a crime scene.”

Sasuke grunted, taking in the surroundings now as his eyes adjusted to the darkness despite the lamps blearily coming to life.

There was a large indent where the bricks and wall had been. Blood was splattered and formed a small puddle on the ground. According to Ikebukuro division of the police, a large lamp light of all things had been used as a weapon into Orihara Izaya’s abdomen.

Sasuke frowned. He had too disgusted with the blasé attitude of the Ikebukuro division to even pay close attention to what they had been saying, but he heard their voices again.

_“It’s just another one of Heiwajima’ s rampages with the information broker Orihara. Frankly, I’m surprised he even caught him.”_

_There was terror in the others’ eyes. “I hope Orihara dies. Then Heiwajima will calm down at last and we can have some peace. Dear gods, eight years of this shit not to mention the amount of property damage and assaults we’ve had…”_

“Say, who is this Heiwajima Shizuo?” Sasuke asked to Kiba as the other detective sniffed around the area. His spiky brown hair only gave away he was part of the Inuzuka clan, who were a family of police officers specializing in scent and dog training.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Kiba sighed. “Look at all this blood. I guess they don’t call him the monster of Ikebukuro for nothing.”

Sasuke raised his eyebrow. “The Monster of Ikebukuro?”

“Apparently, Heiwajima-san has enough strength to throw vending machines, traffic signs, and cars. He is noticeable for his height, bleached blond hair, and infamous temper. According to the Ikebukuro division, he has cost millions of yen worth of property damage to the city from his chases with Orihara-san, who is an infamous information broker.”

Sasuke stared at the petite woman crouching down and staring at the pool of blood with a saddened expression. Her dark raven hair was short and straight like most of the populace of Japan, but appeared dark blue against the darkness of the night. Her gentle-looking and oval-shaped face betrayed that she had been on an internship with the Shinjuku division of police for the past two weeks. She had a thin face and full lips, a very gentle smile, and a quiet voice. Her eyes were strange though. Almost burgundy with vague shades of gold. And when she spoke, it seemed the entire world was focused on her eyes. Setsugen Nozomi was a mystery to Sasuke though. In the last two weeks since he had known her, she had remained focused on filing and observing the populace of police officers. Although most of the populace often mistaken the two for siblings, the two couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Setsugen was kind and calm as Sasuke was dreary and carried ghosts around his soul. The too-gentle child hadn’t known the sorrows of youth taken from her, and Sasuke wondered if he would ever stop regretting his mistakes.

But Setsugen was cheerful, and gentle to all the people they saw. She seemed devoted to helping people, and that was what drove Sasuke to decide to take her as a ride-along.

He didn’t expect to have a call of an attempted murder that looked like it was from a bad live action anime film produced in America.

“What, Uchiha-senpai?” she asked, concern framing her pretty face. “I asked them information about Heiwajima-san and Orihara-san.” She looked down at the pool of blood. “Apparently, the entire Ikebukuro hates Orihara-san.”

Sadness, no deeper than sadness framed her tone, and Sasuke wondered again why a twenty-two-year-old undergraduate student had applied for an internship in the police.

“Well, everyone loves to gossip.” Kiba said, uncharacteristically sober. “Maybe we’ll find one of Orihara-san’s allies, right?”

She didn’t respond, much to Kiba’s chagrin.

Unfortunately, none of the officers or intern from Shinjuku found an ally to Orihara Izaya. All the directions seem to lead to Orihara Izaya as this evil, manipulative, and sociopathic individual with a supposed love for “his humans,” besides for Heiwajima Shizuo, who he called various names.

Hearing about the various fights and chases that they had since meeting as first year high school students, Sasuke couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle. _Their relationship sounds similar to mine and Naruto’s,_ he thought somewhat fondly as the interrogation again ended with no arrests or leads in sight. It was obvious that Heiwajima Shizuo had been the one to assault Orihara Izaya, but no one was willing – or to afriad – to even arrest the man.

 _Or Boruto and Sarada,_ Sasuke thought with a sad turn. How long had it been since he had spent time with his daughter?

Yagiri Namie was a fountain of information, but her personality was as bland and apathetic as roadkill. She had no concern over bosses’ wellbeing and instead seemed very interested in her next payment from the information broker. Even Kiba, who was calm and unattached in the interrogation room, seemed affected by Yagiri’s aloofness to her boss being in the hospital.

“He deserves it anyway.”

Sasuke turned Yagiri Namie away before she could be punched by Kiba, who was fuming in shock and anger, or turned into a victim of tears.

However, towards the end of the third hour of interrogation, they had found a breakthrough. There was an old high school friend of Orihara Izaya living in Ikebukuro as a doctor. His name was Kishitani Shinra.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Sasuke asked the intern, who was currently facing away from the interrogation room and at the door.

“Yes.” There was an abrupt steel to her voice, and Sasuke turned to see her eyes fill with determination and an unknown expression that he hadn’t seen her wear before. “It is something I have to do,” the burgundy-eyed girl whispered.

“Interns,” Kiba scoffed as they entered the police car.

As always, driving through any area of Tokyo was impossible. Sasuke found himself gritting his teeth in frustration at the slow pace. Kiba kept himself busy by looking at pictures of his dog and the intern looked over documents that Yagiri Namie had handed over to them.

“Do you believe any of the information they say about Orihara Izaya?” Sasuke questioned his teammates at a long red light.

Kiba snorted, pocketing his mobile as he stared at Sasuke with an incredulous expression. “We’re police officers, Sasuke. We can’t pick and choose who to believe, _especially_ on a case like this, where the suspect is nowhere to be found.”

“They’re protecting him,” Sasuke stated confidently.

“Hah?” Kiba spluttered. “Everyone is scared shitless of Heiwajima! What makes you think they’re protecting him?”

“Heiwajima,” Sasuke measured his words carefully, “appears to be a young man who is consumed by anger and rage that he can’t control. He is called a monster by people because he can’t control his strength or his rage. But there doesn’t seem to be any indication, other than the mountain of complaints of assault and property damage, that Heiwajima personality seems to be cruel. He must have friends that care for him, despite not wanting to get close to people.”

“He’s like Frankenstein’s monster,” Sasuke muttered to himself.

Kiba carefully eyed his co-worker and teammate for the past six years.

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

Sasuke refused to take the bait.

“No, that would be Orihara Izaya.” Seeing Kiba’s stupefied expression at the corner of his eyes, Sasuke continued his monologue. “To say that he loves humans is not true. It’s almost as if he acts as if he isn’t human. And what do people do when they are lonely? They watch people, never interacting, never approaching for fear of something obtruding their safe world, a bubble of sorts to protect them from harm. And to the people who supposedly know Orihara…why do people inhibit cruelty, or aloofness when dealing with the majority of the population?” Sasuke unclenched his hand from the steering wheel and glared at the blinking scenery as his hand gripped the wheel in front of him, not meeting Kiba’s knowing look. “Because it hurts to be hurt. The only way to protect yourself is to pretend you don’t care at all.

Sasuke sighed, counting in his mind with bubbles to calm down his racing, erratic emotion. _Orihara Izaya…_ “Yagiri went on and on about how her boss loves to people watch, his twisted schemes…but are they twisted as she says?”

“The records from 2009 to now suggest that Orihara is just selling information that he gathered,” Kiba grudgingly admitted. “There were, as she said, clients ranging from a high-ranking yakuza to a normal housewife. All just wanting information, whether it was information on the color gangs or an extra affair…but still, giving information to criminal organization is…”

“I asked my wife as well if she had ever heard of Kishitani Shinra,” Sasuke muttered as the lights of Ikebukuro sped past them, “knowing of how young he is to be a doctor and to be living in Ikebukuro and not in his parents, but there appears to be no record of medical school or a physician’s license.”

“It seems like,” Kiba snarled angrily, “that things in Ikebukuro would never happen in Shinjuku.”

“Like…?”

“Flying vending machines, millions of unpaid property damage, sneaky informants, color gangs that control areas of the city as if it Syracuse New York and an apparent Black Rider with no head, and now this…”

“Hm.”

The three entered the high-rise apartment. It was incredibly spacious, looking almost like a hotel with its clean white walls and the elevator that seemed almost new.

Setsugen had been silent since entering the car. Sasuke glanced at her in concern, but for now, her expression remained passive and in control.

Sasuke rang the doorbell.

“Coming.” Stated a sing-song voice on the opposite end of the door.

“Hello, and welcome to the Kishintani residence,” exclaimed a somewhat tall young man wearing a white doctor’s lab coat with glasses. His smile was wan, and his voice cheerful. “What can I do for you officers? Is it something that my dear Celty has done this time, because I assure you –”

 _Something about him,_ Sasuke thought with a knowing nod to Kiba, _doesn’t feel right._

“We are here to ask you several questions regarding Orihara Izaya,” Sasuke said impatiently.

“Ohh…” The young doctor frowned and put a finger under his chin as if deep in thought. “Orihara-kun? Has he been fighting with Shizuo-kun again? It is normal, I assure you, they have been fighting since – ”

“There is nothing normal about this!” Kiba snapped despite Sasuke’s warning look. “Orihara-kun has been admitted to the hospital, and you should know, since you are listed as his primary physician!”

The smile fell from the doctor’s face. There was a growing anger too, although from where, Sasuke didn’t know. It wasn’t from this young man here. From years fighting on the streets, and then in a youth prison, Sasuke was aware of how emotions molded people. Sometimes it was obvious. Love can transform people into creatures capable of murder, rape, kidnapping, and other ghastly objects of desires or lust. However, this man didn’t seem interested in money, as Yagiri Namie was. He was not searching for love and self-destruction.

There was simply nothingness in this man.


	4. 虚無

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke's conversation with Kishitani continues, and Sakura receives very strange guests to her patient's room.

                                                                         虚無/ _kyomu_

 

The man wearing the white lab coat's tone was cheerful and somewhat detached as he allowed the officers inside.

Kishintani, although he insisted of being called his given name, had known Orihara from high school, but they had first met in junior high school.

“What about the time he stabbed you?” Sasuke interrupted Kishitani’ s reminisce of how he met Orihara-kun and they were in biology club together. He and Kiba had been expecting more information on the criminal nature of the informant, but all they found was an incident where a twelve year Orihara had stabbed a thirteen year old Kishitani with no word of disepline from the school besides two weeks suspension. There was no record of the parents’ reactions to their sons’ behavior.

“Ara, you heard about that? Yes. Orihara-kun stabbed me.” Kishitani Shinra took a sip of tea and then set the tea cup gently, as if not talking about a traumatic incident in the past. His brown eyes appeared sad and misted. Sasuke stared in surprise. So far, this Kishitani character hadn’t shown a sign of sympathy or of anything resembling caring.

“Yes, it is true, but in reality, Orihara-kun was not the one who stabbed me.”

“How are we supposed to take your word for it,” Sasuke uttered in mild frustration, “if you say lie after lie?”

“You can’t,” came Kishitani’s answer.

“It was by a disgruntled classmate. It is so amazing of what humans are capable of, don’t you think?”

“Amazing?” Kiba whispered, half tearing his eyes away from the strange look in Kishitani’s eyes.

“Well, simply, humans are moved by three emotions. Fear, lust, and love. Therefore, if humans are capable of fear, then what do you say is the most human emotion that people are capable of? So drastic, murder, espionage, lying, and criminal activity, just because of chemicals in the brain. My father, for example, changed Orihara-kun’s anatomy after…what happened in middle school.”

“That’s illegal!” Kiba shouted, and to everyone’s surprise, Kishitani just chuckled.

 _Changed how…?_ Sasuke thought. His eyes narrowed at the thought of his former mentor.

“Does your father have any connection to Orochi – ”

“No. But then, I haven’t seen my father in years, not since he got re-married, but what does it matter?” Kishitani slightly smiled at the frowning officers. “Mizuchi Orochimaru, otherwise known by his biological name Mizuchi Kiyomochi was released from prison ten years ago.”

Sasuke still wouldn’t allow Kishitani anything other than suspicion as his head ran through vivid memory of meeting Orochimaru at age thirteen for the first time. It wasn’t an easy memory to erase, and to know that the man who made him what he was now able to breathe the same air unsettled Sasuke to the core.

“You’re from Shinjuku, aren’t you? In Ikebukuro, illegality is in the air we breathe, Officer Inuzuka. You must think I am a bit young for a doctor. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You seem to know both Heiwajima and Orihara, but wouldn’t you say that you are…closer to Orihara because you’ve known each other longer?” Setsugen suddenly asked, removing them from the conversation they had before. She didn’t betray the startled expressions Sasuke and Kiba were sporting, and her gaze was kind.

“Hmm…” Kishitani appeared to think. “I wouldn’t say I was closer to Orihara-kun. …Well, there was that time when I slept with Orihara-kun in junior high school.”

Kiba choked on his tea and Sasuke paused in his writing. He heard a shuddered gasp from the dark-haired girl.

“W-what?” Kiba wheezed, the tea cup almost falling from the table. A couple of splashes fell from the tea, appearing like tears. “You…and Orihara…?”

Kishitani raised his hands and gasped. “And betray my dear Celty? No, officers, no! It was a simple agreement between Orihara-kun and I, to practice on Celty, who has unfortunately resisted my advances.”

Sasuke felt a shred of pity for Orihara. Kiba was looking like a dead fish with his mouth open, and Setsugen was silent and observing Kishitani’s cheerful expression.

“What about Heiwajima Shizuo?” Sasuke asked, his tone cool and collected as Kiba started to take notes. “And Orihara Izaya? You’ve known them for eight years now. What is their relationship, exactly?”

Now Kishitani looked serious. His cheerfulness gone, the thin digits of his hand pushed against his glasses as a somber look appeared in his gaze.

“Their relationship is exactly how they describe in the streets, bound by mutual hatred. Both are human, I assure you, despite Orihara-kun’s statements. I did try to get them to be friends, but they seem to have more fun by playing enemies.” Sasuke waited for Kishitani to continue, but he seemed in the past, his brown eyes clouding over with an emotion only he could understand. “Orihara-kun was wary of me when we first met because I was the first one that saw him as he truly was. Orihara-kun…hates being close to people. He loves to watch and observe, to know what makes his humans tick…because he never had the experience of being human in the first place.”

“What do you mean by being human, Kishitani?”

Kishitani sighed. “They, as in his parents, care about him as him as much as Orihara-kun loves humans. As you can imagine, he doesn’t take rejection that well. He is lonely, and so when Shizuo-kun came along, he was instantly fascinated. He was never afriad of Shizuo-kun, and he never has been afriad to make Shizuo-kun angry, you see. Even though Orihara-kun loves to bother Shizuo-kun, I think both of them find something in each other. Even when Orihara-kun went to university, Shizuo-kun…seemed miserable. It took nothing to set him off, which is why I think Orihara-kun thought of it as amusing to see his “monster” lose another job, among many he lost due to his temper. They both, the two friends I have, seem alive when they chase each other in the streets. A twisted love born out of hate.”

That was the last conversation Sasuke and his team had with Kishitani Shinra. The last conversation that made any sense, anyway. Sasuke’s eyes bled as this doctor talked non-stop about this Irish fairy, Celty this, how amazing and beautiful Celty was. It was worse when the idiot Naruto finally realized he was in love with Hinata.

 _A twisted love story, huh._ Sasuke thought. _It seems that way. But Kishitani…you are the most morbid of them all._

* * *

Orihara-kun had survived the night.

Sakura surveyed her patient carefully, noting the ventilator and the blood bag attached to the bed. The young man had been re-positioned all night to prevent bed sores and bruises now decorated his skin. _That isn’t the worst of his injuries,_ Sakura thought as she almost bent the chart in her hands despite the lack of strength.

 _There’s internal bleeding, multiple rib fractures that caused blood to collect in one of his lungs, a collapsed lung, a crushed spleen that was taken out before any of the poison could destroy his already fragile body, and so much more risks that I can’t even think of them now._ The heart monitor continued to beep, but Sakura could not rest easy. There would be long-term damage to Orihara-kun’s body if he survived, not to mention his compound vertebra fracture. Sakura remembered of how she and the other doctors had talked gravely about Orihara-kun’s condition.

_“If whatever had hit him had pushed against his chest, then his heart and lungs would have exploded.”_

_If that is the case,_ Sakura thought as she looked at the young man turned on his right side as machines breathed for him and as his blood leaked out from his lung that had been collapsed with blood. Orihara-kun looked tiny in comparison to the bed he was lying in, his pale face even paler as the ventilator continued to whoosh.

_Then you should survive, Orihara-kun._

“Iza-nii!” Sakura turned as the door to the ICU opened, the small sound echoing in the barren room as two teenage girls entered. They were wearing their junior high school uniforms, dark blue with skirts. Sakura noticed immediately that the two girls were identical twins, one with long hair braided with glasses and the other with short hair.

The woman expected the girls who looked like in their last year of junior high to begin to cry at the sight of their older brother in an ICU bed unconscious, but instead what Sakura heard instead was,

“Die faster, Iza-nii!”

Sakura’s blood ran cold. _What?_ Her breath curled in her lungs, then choked as she saw one of the girls’ smiling face, leaning towards her brothers’ head. A cold drop of sweat formed across her brow.

“Hurry, so we can see Yuuhei!”

The quieter one with a passive expression only responded with, “…Yuuhei…”

Sakura stared at the two in astonishment and paling despair. Her breathing was being released into the air, but it felt as if her lungs were stiff and her heartbeat echoed forlornly in her head as she continued to hear the Orihara sisters continue to encourage their brother to die.

The pink-haired doctor swallowed, opening her mouth to reprimand the girls before she closed her mouth and spoke calmly instead.

“Your older brother is gravely injured.” Sakura had hoped the parents would at least come, but she instead pasted a fake smile on her face and continued to speak to the young girls. “He may not be the same when he wakes up, and he will need a lot of care when he wakes up.”

“But we don’t want him to wake up!” The girl on the right stated hotly as Sakura was fighting hot-red anger flaming within her bones. “Shizu-nii said that if Iza-nii dies, we can see Yuuhei!”

“…kidnap…”

Sakura was confused and horrified at the same time.

“Kidnap…?”

“Mairu! Kururi!” A soft but firm tenor barreled through the room then as a tall man wearing a light blue sweater walked inside the room. Square-framed glasses almost touched his gray eyes, and fashionable shoes, although not hospital standard, were worn of his feet. His face was thin and angular. A large folder was hidden beneath his armpit. Beside him was a young woman who made Sakura, although a mother and married to her husband for twelve years, still self-consciously glanced down at her modest bust. Long orange hair framed her thin and oval face, and tears immediately leaked from her eyes at the figure lying in hospital bed.

“Izaya-kun!”

“I told you not to run off again, but did you listen?” the younger man stated to the one named Mairu.

“But Ryuu-nii…”

A small child peaked her head behind the woman’s leg, and Sakura tried to smile easy. She looked around Sarada’s age, maybe a year younger.

“What is your name?” she asked sweetly, presuming she was talking to the couples’ child. She had dark hair that slightly framed bangs around her forehead, with a sweet face that reminded Sakura of a younger child two years her junior. A light-colored shirt and dark brown pants was what she was wearing complete with dark blue shoes. She had Izaya’s nose and mouth, and there were also her eyes.

Eyes the color of crimson, or that of the fall colors that made Sasuke smile.

Those two were Izaya’s eyes.

“Good morning. My name is Dr. Uryuu Ishida, and I work at Karakura General Hospital as an intern.” Sakura turned to find the tall dark-haired man with blue eyes speaking to her with respect, using honorific speech and glancing with concern at both the woman previously beside him, who was now beside Orihara-kun’s bedside, crying softly, and the child who was now hiding behind him. “I am a high school friend of Orihara-san, this is our first time –”

“Mama!”

Shocked green and blue orbs focused on the child, who was now running to the hospital bed with tears streaking down her face.

“Mama!” Sakura was far too shocked to hear Ishida-kun trying to hold the child back by calling Mairu and Kurui, who watched the scene in disinterest. The young woman with orange hair clutched the child as the girl started to kick and scream.

“Mama!” Sobs tore from her tiny throat, and Sakura winced at the high screech that burned her eardrums.

_“Mama! MAMA!! MAMA!!”_

_Mama…_ Sakura thought in stunned silence as the girl continued to cry and scream even as the woman hummed a soothing tone and rubbed the child’s back.

“Don’t go! Don’t go, Mama! Don’t leave! Chouki…Chouki…wants to see you! Please, wake up!”

Sakura held her breath to stop the onslaught of tears tearing near her eyes as the cries continued even as the younger woman with a kind heart started exiting the door.

“Wake up…! Open eyes, Mama! MAMA!”

“MAAMAAA!!!”

Uryuu Ishida appeared to pause for a breath for a moment before he adjusted his glasses. His face had paled considerably and his eyes, then so calm and certain, appeared crestfallen and shaken.

“I apologize for Chouki-chan. She…” he heaved a breath. “She wanted to see Orihara-kun.”

“Are you her parents?” Sakura asked, her voice marred with confusion. Ishida shook his head.

“No, Orihara – I mean to correct, Izaya-san is her older brother.” Ishida sighed deeply as glanced toward the twins. “Although they don’t have…the best relationship,” the raven-haired man said without a grimace, “Izaya-san basically raised his three sisters by himself because his parents are constantly overseas on business. So, you see…Chouki-chan…sees Izaya as her mother, father, and brother. She confuses identities still.”

“Hm,” Sakura said, sounding suspiciously close to her quiet husband. Sarada and her friends had no trouble identifying who their parents were, or what to call them at age six.

_But still..._

“Orihara-san…raised his twin sisters and then Chouki-chan…on his own?” Sakura gasped, flabbergasted. Stunned silence did not even begin to scratch the surface of how deep the horror she felt. “How…?” _To raise two children as a child himself…!_

A wall of anger inflamed her then, and Sakura had to swallow the poisonous words that wanted to come out of her mouth.

“His parents sent an allowance every month, and his father’s parents used to take care of Mairu and Kurui as Izaya-san was in school in the mornings until he was twelve.”

“And after that…?” Sakura pressed. She didn’t expect an answer but sighed when she received none.

Ishida Uryuu only put the large folder across from the table. Unlike so many of her patients that crossed through those doors, there were no small gifts, cards, or amulets on the lone table.

“These are his medical records from his personal physician, Kishitani Shinra-san.” There was a sharp bite in Ishida’s words as he said the name, but the anger that had appeared dissipated as the bespeeched man gave a short bow to her as he gestured silently for the teenage twins to follow.

“Please.” Mairu pouted as Ishida stood in front of the door, his right blue eye meeting Sakura’s somber as the heart monitor and the ventilator continued to work. There seemed to be a raw emotion seeping in small doses in the abrupt, reedy tone he used with her. “Take care of him.”

The door closed behind her before Sakura could even form a reply.


End file.
